


Constellation Skin

by handsomeprincess



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, First Time, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsomeprincess/pseuds/handsomeprincess
Summary: An amnesiac tactician carrying plenty of subconscious baggage finds out if his plans work with those of a shy, sweet dancer. Originally written in 2014 as part of an MU Challenge.





	Constellation Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna be real with you I wrote this in 2014 and it was never completed but it's the only smut I've done this long so please, welcome to my awkward FEA character attempting to get off his future wife. It was originally interspersed with some other scenes telling more of the story/how they first got to know each other, but this is the sexy part.

If he had one thing to thank her for, it was for helping him remember how a teenager must feel. 

“Oliv-…” He lost the last of it on her lips when she peppered herself on him and he didn’t let the opportunity to remember what kissing her felt like go – a hundred times later, and he still couldn’t perfectly recall until it happened again. 

“Ah?” She asked him when she went up for air, her knees perched on his legs so that she was balanced on top of him like a tightrope walker. “Is everything okay?”

Olivia had let him keep his hand on her leg for over fifteen minutes. Over the course of the allotted time, it had inched up from her calf – toned, hard muscle that could hold him down if she commanded it so – to her knees and the edge of her skirt. Another half of an inch under the hem was trivial. The full inch was even more so, especially when she moved in and out of his reach and darted at him with the nervous excitement of a hummingbird. He wondered exactly how many more trivial, meaningless inches it would take until she batted him away – or, alternately, until he was in far, far too deep. 

“I think – not that I’d know,” Solen told her, staring up at her as if she was skies and skies away as he slipped his hand up another inch up, “that you might be making me feel eighteen. Maybe.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever really been eighteen.” She said, framing his face with her hands before kissing him again. “I promise.” 

He scrunched up his face under her lips and she ripped back off of him when she caught sight of his befuddled expression, nearly toppling off his legs as she crunched up like a started puppy. “Was that too much?”

“What do you mean, never been eighteen?” 

“I just meant that you don’t seem like a kid!” Olivia flailed her hands until they wound up back on her face, her glassy eyes peeking out from between her fingers. “If you can’t remember it, I suppose you wouldn’t know- but is that offensive?” 

“I would expect I lived through an eighteenth year, at some time or another.” He suggested, one eyebrow cocked. She pressed her hands harder against her cheeks. 

“I mean that I can’t imagine you as an eighteen year old. All boyish and stupid! They’re so little – I was so little, and you’re just so old-oh!”

Solen blinked. “I’m old?” 

“Only a little! In the best way! I like old people!” Her eyes went wide and then went out entirely behind her fingers as they squeezed shut like shutters. “I don’t mean that – I wanted to be sweet, I can never be sweet…”

He started laughing before he could help himself. Olivia groaned, curled herself up into him and pressed herself against his chest to be closer to the chuckling, her cheekbones pressed against his ribs as if it they would conduct the warmth from his mirth right into her. 

“I’ll just stay down here.” She mumbled with so little breath that he could barely hear her. But as she leaned in, she shifted her legs further down so that his hands slipped without warning to the top of her thighs, squarely under her clothes – the laughter stopped immediately, choked out of him, although he swore he caught the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips when she looked up at him. 

Real old people, fully-grown, mature adults in fully-grown, real encounters, would raise skirts without fanfare and grab right for what they imagined they wanted, the danger long since discarded with the shirts and blouses and pretenses on the floor. They grew bored with counting the freckles on their partner and kissing every birthmark they could find and waiting with baited breath when their hands straddled the lines of intimacy, terrified of rejection and even more so of permission. 

He had memorized the constellations on her skin and could map them – he had found the little pale imperfections on her neck and shoulders and, most scandalously, her stomach and pressed against them. 

“I do have one more, somewhere else.” Olivia had mentioned, offhand, when he had busied himself at the corner where the softness of her belly ran into the curve of her hip to study the small mark. When Solen had stared back up at her and shaken just slightly, she had pinked and pulled him back up to her face so he couldn’t watch her blush at him, pulling her blouse back over her skin.

Now, sandwiching him between herself and the cot, she remained on his chest as if his frame had been made to fit the girl’s head, his shirt like sheets, his body her bed. Her straying fingers flirted with the waistline of his pants as she idly rubbed the fabric back and forward, her nails brushing neatly against his skin. He steadied himself against the trembling she incited through his bones. 

“Where is this going?” He nearly lost the last word to a squeak and a gasp as she dipped down at the same time he pulled up and caught herself a fingerful of curly hair. “D-do we have a plan?” 

At the last word, she groaned aloud into him and shook her head, giggling. He stiffened and left her legs behind, navigating her hand back where it could be fully seen and chaperoned before dropping his arms at his sides. 

“Well, _do_ we?”

Olivia sat up again, crossing her legs and sticking out her knees while still on his, leaning back on her hands while her mussed skirt settled far too far up above her thighs. 

“I thought you might have had one.”

Solen craned his neck to stare at her, forcing himself up on his elbows. 

“It’s a bit of a work in progress. I’m still mapping it out.” 

She reached out to touch his fingers, tugging just slightly on his hands. “You felt like you had a pretty firm grasp on a plan.”

He shrugged. “I was considering a few strategies. Nothing hard yet.”

“…I, um, wouldn’t say that.” 

When she stared down pointedly at him and flushed on his behalf, he scrambled to adjust even under her, flapping and flailing and ultimately throwing a blanket over his clothed waist, folding it over double just to be sure. 

“I can guarantee you that _that’s_ never planned.“ The man fussed with the blanket. “That’s that enemy of a plan. There’s little parts of you that I swear aren’t attached to your brain, these stupid rogue impulses you can’t call back, and that’s the biggest one by far-oh, _come_ on…”

She giggled like a bubbling brook, her little bursts of laughter cool and cascading and compliment to the buzzing, warm hums on her lips as she tried to cover her mouth. He tugged at the blanket again and she caught his hands, pulling them up to her ankles and fastening his fingers around them. 

“You don’t quite seem like the type to wait around for marriage, Sol.” She slid his hands slowly up to her shins. He grabbed onto her legs and held tight, using his thumb like a desperate break against her knees as he pulled himself up to stare straight at her. 

“I could be.” He clutched onto her knees and wondered how much gravity could be heard in his words – he wondered if it always felt so strange to tell the truth, to realize even under the blankets and shirts and skin that his honesty exposed everything. “I would be. Olivia, if you wanted me to be, I would be anything.” 

Olivia stopped her tugging for a moment and looked right into him, going as pink as he was sure he was going. Her hands seemed to hug themselves tight against his wrists. 

“Then I’d like – I _want_ everything you have. No conditions or anything, just all of those plans in your head.” She swallowed and pursed her lips and nodded with her elegant conviction. “I’m not much of a tactician and hardly anything else, so I don’t think I’ll understand them all, and I’m sorry. But I want them still.”

_None of it’s really worth knowing._ He nodded anyway and half-chuckled. She started to giggle again and bolted in and kissed him as if to water him with her laughing or find his own in his mouth for herself, either one – she was shaking too, he noticed. 

“Plus all of those little impulses as well.” Olivia said as she pulled away from him, neatly tossing the blanket from his lap onto the floor and catching his hands with the grace of an expert hunter before they could dart too far from her legs. “I like those. I feel like an impulse all the time, too.” 

“Oh?”

She nodded and inched closer to him, nuzzling his shoulder as she sidled up to his ear, squeezing his fingers as she trembled and whispered as if someone could overhear. 

“T-that’s probably why I’d be so bad at waiting for marriage.”

Keeping him trapped beneath her, the woman rode his hand smoothly over her knees and up into the silky skin and muscles of her inner thigh, higher and higher until he was centered in the warmest part of her, his knuckles brushing hot cotton that couldn’t be any thinner, every depth of her at his fingertips. 

While Solen was stunned, she let go of his fingers and shed her blouse, tossing it over her arms and away so that all of the birthmarks and freckles and bits of her that made his heart race were visible at once. She took his other hand – a big hand, compared to her sweet, stubby one, a hand that could quickly navigate her entire length if it were so desired - and pressed it on her waist. 

Olivia blinked when he gaped and squirmed a little closer. “Um, in case you needed to do more mapping.”

As she kissed him again – he had again forgotten what it was like until he was reminded – he stared at her bare and decided that regardless of her opinion on his age, he felt unmistakably small.

-

“So where _is_ this birthmark?”

Olivia had slipped out of all of her clothes save for the thin cotton smallclothes on her lower half. Solen had searched her with some abandon and he had found little scars on her body, soft, colorless hairs on her limbs and spare cracks and folds near her joints that he had pulled apart to look inside. He had found the parts of her she had shown everyone, now up close and under his hands and privately viewed – he found the bits of her that previously had been hers alone until she had granted him her permission. He had yet to discover the last little mark on her skin. 

While he had not looked, however, he had slipped his fingers down into her smallclothes, holding her tight to him as he went – he regretted this almost immediately when he gasped upon touching her. She was so close to him that even if he had been silent, she could have felt it in his chest. 

“You’re not even the one being felt up!” The girl had whispered and giggled when he tried to stifle his breathing and bury his face in her shoulder. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to this part of girls, but while the anatomy wasn’t foreign, the softness had become exotic, the velvety skin and the wiry hair curled in little locks above it more alluring to the touch than he had remembered. 

“You feel good.” Solen had unpacked her, gently pulled her apart. She had shivered when he stumbled onto the wetter skin further in and he had nuzzled her, hunting in a little deeper, pressing with caution against every soft patch she had. 

Olivia had breathed in through her nose and stared up and half-closed her eyes as if she couldn’t tell if she could bear to watch him or not. He’d ran his finger lightly up her outer lip and back down all the way past where he had started and she’d breathed and blushed and grabbed at his other arm. 

“You’re so focused. It’s making me nervous.”

Almost immediately he had withdrawn his hand and she had caught it, stuffing it back down into her smallclothes. “No! No, I liked it! Unless you didn’t?”

He sunk back in deeper than before, if still slowly. “I can still give you stage fright? After everything you’ve seen of me?”

Olivia pressed down against him and clutched his upper arm. 

“I like that, though.”

He could have guessed. He had held her for another few minutes without speaking, the ceremonial silence deafening and occasionally punctuated by both of their sighs. But even if Solen could make her quiver and hum and eventually grow so sweet and swollen that she had to politely pull him away for a moment, his fingertips alone could not see the missing birthmark for him. 

“You still can’t find it?” Olivia had teased him when he asked. “I don’t think you’ve been looking hard enough, then.” 

“I’ve been all over you and back.” Not as if he minded. 

“No one’s ever searched so hard.” She pinked, grabbing for his thumb and placing it over the mark on her lower stomach – not nearly so scandalous now compared to the things due just north and just south of it, but soft enough as he rubbed it all the same. 

“I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“But you’re really giving up so soon?” She sounded nearly disappointed, her little lips scrunched up and her eyes, as always, big. 

He dug into her hair and ran his hand down from her belly to her waist, looping one finger through the hip of her smallclothes without tugging them down. 

“I ah, might have one last guess.”

She wrapped herself around him, her hands from roaming his chest to his stomach and into the sides of his own remaining garments. 

“I can give you a tour in a moment.” 

He had no idea what she was looking for when she searched him so thoroughly, and yet she seemed so intent on finding something as she targeted him. She didn’t pull the last of his clothes off of him – he was naked as she was, reluctantly, as shirts were easy enough to unbutton but there was scarcely a way to remove trousers in bed without coming off completely foolish. Yet she examined the skin right around the edges of his clothes, tracing it over as she rediscovered long-lost marks and moles and indents and bones he had long since forgotten he carried.

There was a scar on Solen’s waist that he had distinctly not forgotten, a long jagged thing graciously punctured in by the business side of a Plegian lance. The original wound itself hadn’t left much of a mark, but the flesh itself had been devoured whole by the toxin on the tip. It had been left caved in and ragged, cobbling itself back together over time and occasionally reopening under duress. His hip was lined with lacelike veins that had been irreversibly stained and bulged by the treatment – the final effect, he had concluded, was pretty damn hideous. 

Olivia kissed it without hesitation, bending down on her knees to get closer enough to study it, her fingertips tracing the veins. “You got this the first day we fought together.”

“And it’s disgusting. Two years and it’s still awful. Reminds me of Gangrel.” He tugged her cheek away from it, turning her gaze in the other direction and back towards him. “I can keep it covered.” 

He had seen her run from cuts that were half as ugly – she had shuddered and shrieked, historically, at broken bones and torn muscles and everything else she had to stomach in wartime. 

“It makes me think of me. I hope someday it makes you think of me.” She didn’t look back at it, but kept her hand on the most hardened part. “Is that vain?” 

Solen didn’t say anything. She reached up to his hands and pressed her damp lips on his wrists, kissing them all the way around and not stopping when he looked down and away. 

“I wish so much of me could make me think of you.” He confessed suddenly as she made her way up his arms. She squeaked into his arm and clutched it, hiding her face. 

“Oh! Oh. Then I’ll associate as much as I can! I’ve never had so much of someone before…”

She shook her head. “You make me think of things all differently. Did you know that?”

At some point, she found her way back to his chest, back to his stomach, back to his smallclothes. She strummed the curls on his torso in time – cream-colored, nearly blonde with little filters of cooler mint and earth on his darker, greyer body – and followed the trail down every few beats, his heart racing like a metronome and driving her forward faster and faster and down, down, down…

Solen had let her touch him briefly in the same way he had touched her, if mostly out of numbness– she had granted him the comfort of going over his clothes but even they, saving grace that they were, weren’t entirely enough to cushion the shockwaves surging through him at her feathery nudging. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest to try to mute his heart, his lungs in his throat and feeling deflated. 

If her own hidden parts were where she kept the core of her heat and warmth, after all, this in him was where everything that could hurt was found. She searched for the ways to let her shaky secrets out and guided him to find them and he felt, in turn, exposed and too heavy to hide. On the outside, things felt hard, statuesque – he was made of dark marble, he was chiseled from diamond, he was steel and iron. A hand on him, however, could find where he would give and where he could break and he remembered he, too, was constructed only of flesh and blood. 

“Are you alright?” She slowed down and moved with less intent, wandering around aimlessly over him as he closed his eyes and prayed to be turned to stone. 

Without entirely realizing it, he plucked her fingers off of him and pinned her arms to her sides with his own, smothering her with his lips and pushing her away and under him. She squeaked and poked her head up over his shoulder, leaning her chin against his back as he latched onto her neck and didn’t let go. 

“I’m a lot more interested in you.” He could feel her blush, but she nudged and wriggled her arms out of his grip, stopping for a moment to hug him before returning his hands to her smallclothes and sticking the sides of the fabric in his grip. They peeled off with one brisk tug and his heart nearly stopped altogether. 

The birthmark was there, visible right in the crease of her pelvic bone as she squirmed up further on the cot and raised her knees up for better clarity. It was the largest one, a cool stain on her warm brown skin. 

“Ah.”

“Hard to miss, once you know where to look.” Olivia’s voice wavered only a little as she chirped. She reached out for his hand and he took it without taking his eyes off of her. 

“I like this one.”  
“It’s my favorite. No one really knows it’s there – no one thinks to look. But it looks a little like a spade, or a heart, if you’re looking at it from the other way, which has happened from time to time…”

“I could see that.” He could see a lot about what she just said.

“It’s always been just mine, which is nice.” The girl peered at him from the pillow, staring at him down her body. “B-but you’ve given me a lot! You can have it, too.”

His face flushed and he hid it closer to the birthmark, pressing his lips against it as he had done with the others. She gasped as he moved from one end of it to the other, then trivially further down the crease, and down, and down, and down….

-

He kissed her twice with closed lips, just down and right of the birthmark between her legs – once on the upper part of her and once further down near the core. Then, he had stopped and looked up. No one could say he wasn’t chaste. 

Olivia seemed so far away from him back up at the head of the bed, even with her hand in his hair, her eyes locked entirely on him even as she covered the right side of her face with her other palm. The curves of her stomach rose and fell, her breasts had each slipped slightly to the side, leaving her chest exposed for him to look up. 

Her stomach stopped rising when he leaned into her a little more, a breath away from her skin. She had consumed his nose and mouth already even with the distance – his heart was racing, his head stopped in disbelief, his senses entirely in service of all of her that he could have. 

Solen eventually found his words again, peeking up at her, his eyelashes feathering against her pelvic bone and inner thigh. 

“Can I go further?”

She took a deep breath and her stomach rose up again, her chest rising with it. Olivia reached out and ran her hand down his forehead, stroking the bridge of his nose with her thumb – he kissed her fingers when they got close to his lips. 

“Do you want to?” The woman asked him, a little shaky, her voice pitchy and breathy. She was shivering or shaking, he couldn’t tell, but he could feel the cold in the air as the silence settled in on him. He pulled his blanket off the floor and wrapped it around his back to cover her lower legs. 

“If you’ll have me.” Solen inched away slightly, keeping his breathing off her body. She was looking like a kid on a dare, someone who had laughed a great game about an insane act and was now staring it in the face with a sinking stomach, reality kicking in. He’d kissed her hand again, hugged himself against her legs, pet her waist and gazed straight up at her – he looked for all the ways he loved her and hoped she got the message as she continued to take lengthy breaths. 

Olivia stared at him in full flush, her eyes scrutinizing him as she pondered without speaking, the wheels in her head turning but silent, her heartbeat almost audible. Finally, she reached from his mouth to his forehead and tilted him closer so that he was fully up against her, her soft skin and hair pressed to his face. 

The girl nodded her head with conviction and squirmed down the cot a bit, adjusting her body under his still lips and resting her legs on his shoulders. She perched herself on the pillow like a queen and stared down at him, still lit up with a healthy blush.

“Go ahead."

He kissed her immediately, and again, and again. On the third kiss, she spread her limbs even wider and held onto his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. 

Solen liked how little she looked there in person, her palette brown and framed with soft pink curls and warm pink insides. She was small and sweet – she fit in his mouth, she was easy to fixate on and hard to pull away from. Olivia breathed in when he leaned in, his nose nuzzled up against the softest part of her as gently as he could place it. 

“I’m not new to this. Y-you knew that.” She mumbled to him, her hands tugging in his hair like reigns, her legs wrapping around to his back. 

He hummed into her in response and she moaned – he kissed her again, pulling his mouth out just barely. “You’ve said. Are things alright?” 

“Perfect. They’re perfect.” She promised, then slipped her fingers off his hair and against her body, spreading some folds of her open to reveal a nub on the upper half of her – she pushed his head back into her. “But do that there.”

He’d pressed his tongue against her, something else that was nearly impossible to do with any real sensuality at first – he became conscious of his own mouth and lips, of the idea of gnashing and how much he hated the word “licking” and the strange chiseling of his face as it rested against her thighs. He nearly doubled back, his heart pounding in his throat as he hunted back for the silent peace he had had a moment ago, suddenly overwhelmed by the taste of a girl too halcyon for his hands, too tender for his tongue…

But the sigh she gave out when he finally hit the mark was addictive and he dug in more, adjusting his neck and knees to get to the better bits of her. His fingertips traced little pictures on her this, sketching tiny hearts – cliché, foolish, but he was just as much fool as his drawings and they were easy enough to make – onto her pelvic bone. She guided him up with her hands and her cry was rewarding, even if she immediately shoved him back down into more common waters. 

“Sorry! Sorry, Sol, oh, you were doing well, you were doing too good…” He shrugged and pet her affectionately, continuing to stroke where he hoped she was less sensitive – she pulled him out by his neck and slammed her legs shut, racing her legs up to her chest to hide her breasts as she clung to herself, burying her face in her knees. 

Solen was up besides her in moments, his arms around her, his heart presumably left shattered down between her legs. Before he could atone, she buried herself in his chest, pressing her knee into his torso as he held the whole of her, still baffled. 

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” He muttered, and she shook her head, her forehead bashing against his nose. He stopped himself from kissing her head just in time when he realized how sticky his face had become – he wouldn’t do that to her, he elected, although he did begin to pet her wavy locks instead. 

“It’s not you.” Olivia clutched his arm. “You were following what I said to do.”

“You were beautiful.” He offered, and she buried her face into the crook of his arm. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault. We don’t have to do anything.” And he meant it – he could have held her forever. 

She shook her head into him, her nose rubbing up against his forearms. Solen pet her until her breathing was less haphazard, his head still spinning – the room was spinning, the world was spinning, she was sniffling…

When she spoke, it all stopped. “I sprained my ankle once when I was learning spins as a girl. Too bad of a sprain’s a death sentence for a dancer, especially one who’s already so talentless…”

“Talk about the ankle.” He had no idea where she was going, but he insisted firmly all the same. 

Olivia nodded obediently. “So I stayed off of it for a month. I love dancing, Solen, my entire world is dancing, I feel dead without it and I’ll die before my time when I age out of it…”

He clutched her harder – he didn’t interrupt, but he vowed quietly to find more worlds for her, ones with better longevity. 

“One day I was itching to dance so badly that my ankle didn’t seem so bad. I’d been walking on it, I’d been exercising it, a friend had told me the best way to fix it was to build it back up again, and it just felt so wonderful that day. But I wasn’t careful. I had a perfect routine right until the end- I went into a spin and I remembered that my ankle had just plumb been worthless the first time and I hesitated, and before I knew it I was sprained even worse.” The girl sniffed. “Two months off my feet. I nearly had to quit my lessons.”

She swallowed and looked up at him, heated. “Do I…make any sense to you? Have you ever had anything you loved so much even when it hurt you that you couldn’t stop? And now you can’t always separate the love and the hurt, completely? I still feel like I’m going to fall whenever I do spins.”

He pressed his hand to her stomach and wrapped himself tighter around her, blanketing every bit of her skin he could find. 

“You make absolutely perfect sense.” Solen looked her over and saw her body, tight and lithe and stunning to him, looked suddenly smaller. He had known she had history – he had history that could fill a book just as big, and so who was he to grow consumed with the idea of anyone flagging a lover before him? He’d never had much interest in thoughts like that.But he found himself wondering, all of a sudden, who else had seen her like this, clenched up and on the verge of tears and looking completely human – more importantly, what had she seen while like this? 

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t ask. 

“We can stop. We can definitely stop. That went fast, Olivia, it was a lot…”

The girl clung onto his wrists and tugged them, squeezing them as tight as she could. She took a few deep breaths – three seconds in, three out – and shook her head. 

“I have an idea.” It was his line, and she said it like him. “I-It’s too much to ask. I’d need you to trust me.” 

“I trust you with my life pretty regularly, don’t I?” 

“Then I’d need you to trust me with a little more.” Olivia rubbed his wrists. “Maybe with secrets you don’t entirely remember. Sensitive things.”

She hid her face into him and she ran her hand down his side and hip, catching onto the last scrap of clothing he still wore. “It sounds so foolish. But could you take this off?”

His heart stopped, his hand stopped, his head stopped. He felt his chest tighten – he felt the silence hang heavy on him, he felt her breathing and the scrape of her foot against the cot and sheet and the clearest echoes coming from the smallest sounds. 

“Okay.” 

Olivia had smiled more than she had intended, he suspected. She had kissed him even despite where he had been, her mouth sweet and open on his like she was numbing him. She had nudged him and he had stood up, taking her with him so that her body was flush against his. He explored down to the small of her back and the breadth of her hips, gripping them like hands as she tugged his smallclothes down, letting them fall lightly to his ankles. 

She traced the defined lines of his pelvic bone down and in, letting him take shelter in her shoulder as the storm clouds started to swirl inside of his brain. 

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Funny.” Solen pushed deeper into her shoulder. “I was thinking something similar not ten minutes ago.”

 


End file.
